


Sweet Cyanide

by IdlePace



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Eating, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 13:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2469521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdlePace/pseuds/IdlePace





	Sweet Cyanide

That soft hue rubbing against his skin, it’s ensnared you again. He didn’t even mean for it to happen, not like the countless other times his blush has been under your tongue. He simply wore it, let himself breathe in it and you can’t help but want to rip it from his flesh.

You watch his chest rise, like a predator waiting for his eyes to slip close. Catch him off guard; take what you’ve been craving. The pink fabric moves across him, and it burns you. You think that you should feel guilty when you fantasize digging your nails into him. As drool collects around your teeth you almost wonder if you should apologize for the limitless different ways you picture him panting, moaning, and begging for you.

He turns to you when you approach him; the quick twist of his neck slams his precious light hair into his cheeks. You can feel your fingers twitch, correction, your entire skeleton twitches. The vibrations sent down your bones are practically painful, and it itches, like bugs under your skin.

Your tongue slips out, whether it is accidental or not you don’t care, you only want it to meet with his salty skin. His eyes grow wide; you can almost visualize his thoughts behind them. He’s realized he’s prey, and you love how he tries to make himself seem small.

He could be trying to deter you, avoid you, but you know it’s for your hunger. You read it in his eyes, a surprise, but he’s peckish too.

His teeth break out into a sheepish smile and you stretch your hands. The innocent face he gives, it drives a surge through you, animalistic and needy. You want, need, to wipe the look from his face. His blonde hair tempts you to pull it from his roots and crash your body with his. Your nails slide down his cheek without your permission, but you keep the greedy fingers from pinching to pull his blood flow.

The noise he makes, it’s insufferable. He’s torturing you and he knows it. His voice breaks and you dream how it would be to break him that very second. Have him tug at your skin, call your name and convulse. Watch him spark with every nerve and his pale body glow in the dull light.

You want his toes to curl and his legs to shiver, have his lips be stuck open, desperate for any air. Those eyes need to be on you, crying out for your touch.

You want to make him scream with pleasure. His desire, you, in the middle of his sight as you indulge him with slick sweat on your skin. Tease him, hear him whine and tell you how much he wants your everything. “Rythian…” He will call as you smile, feeling the power he gives you.

“Before,” You speak with laced lust, “Do something for me.” The way he’ll nod with strain, his neck already arched with his back. The motion you make, it’s filthy and the way he bites his lip you could almost come in your pants.

He’s always most gorgeous when nude, it allows to you see every bend and crease in his skin. It feeds your wild hunger as you hold back from pinning him to the nearest wall. You could have had him in so many ways since you made him first breathless. Bend him over a counter, stuffed deep into couch cushions, given him rugburn, have his head smash into the drywall over and over as he bucks, or allow pain in you back as he takes all of you in as you hold him mid-air.

You love watching when he takes it all at once. Slamming down with such confidence and watching his expression melt as a tremor runs up his spine forcing him to cry out. In his perverted yearning he loves every ache it gives him and you love how quickly the warmth he surrounds you with spills into your stomach, slowly swirling into your chest to constrict your lungs.

You can taste the anticipation from him that he spits into the air, waiting for you to watch him. You’re his thirsting audience, how your teeth haven’t sunk into the soft folds of his skin you still don’t know, but your lips aren’t spared as they take the place of him. He almost tries taunting you, letting his hand hover just above but as your hips jump, spiking deeper into him, he hurries up.

His legs twitch against your sides as his dick slides along his fingers. You push up again, forcing in deeper if you possibly could, and it’s enough encouragement for him to move. The red decorating his body is so heated when you run your hands down it and he keeps watching you. Drool pools in the corner of his mouth as he just lets it drip down onto his chest. He lets it and you let him.

“Lalna.” Your voice, his vice, he hiccups when called. “Are you naughty?” Your fingers catch the slimy thin glaze dripping past his nipples and your entire body can feel him tighten.

“Yes…” He’s desperate, his vision is hazed, but he still watches you. He watches as your vision drops, catching his weak hand working. You worship the way his hand moves when he touches himself. Such a sweet, seemingly innocent man, sugar dotted in his gums, wriggling from the pressure you keep hiking higher into his ass and stimulus he strokes on himself. You’ve clawed away his charming exterior, and your reward, is such the sexual deviant who fails to hold in excited squeals as he rides you.

Even as your impatient tongue circles around your lips again you can’t bring yourself to interrupt the whining mess in your lap. How he plays with himself with his talented fingers, it brings a growl through your teeth. “What else Lalna?” Your hands are up his back, squeezing at the plump skin before his tailbone. “Confess to me you naughty man.” You start your hips up, waving your body to match his hand.

You can almost catch the moan in his mouth as can’t hold back any longer, pasting yourself around him and your lips on his. You know you could call him scandalous phrases, behind closed doors words until he explodes, his heightened arousal spurting semen up your chest, but you’d rather have him speak them.

“I’m dirty!” He cycles his motions; Forcing down onto your cock, squeezing and lifting as his pinned hand still twists between your chests urgently flailing to keep his building masturbating pace. “I love the sound, we make, when we fuck.” His groaned words let you remember the sharp liquid noise that squelches between you two.

More noises, more triggering sounds that cause you to spill heated breath into his neck. “Tell me,” You rasp for cool air as your nails grow content with the bruises you’ll leave at his hips, “More about what you like Lalna. You’re dirty, you’re naughty,” You struggle not to choke on the quick saliva charging down your throat, “And fucking sexy. So tell me more.”

His predicted whine jumps in pitch as you press him down into a thrust and how he flounders is something you never want to forget. “You’re so big, so thick.” You can feel his spine bend under your fingers, and his hair dangles onto to your wrist. “Oh God Rythian! Oh God!” His shudder ripples through to you and the immediate realization that you won’t be able to last longer punches into your gut.

You begin to drown on the abundant noises he cannot stop producing. He’s so loud, you’re making him that way, and through his delicious howls he speaks your name. A diamond on his tongue as he graces the room with it. You move in the rhythm of his chant. He can’t stop his endless outbreak of full body shudders as his head drops further back.

Leaving his moldable sides for the splitting second you form a hold on his cheeks, bringing his eyes back down. His mouth with its swollen lips, his dilated eyes, disordered hair, you catch sight of it all before he sticks his face tight to your shoulder. The breath he gasps for forms around your skin and you jerk your driving pattern.

His hands were forced to leave his snared dick, caught between both of your stomachs. It rubs against you with each beat you share and how he fidgets even more when it tangles back into your chest hair is mesmerizing. One wish would be to have access to his full belly. To knead your knuckles into the ample softness, just the tempting idea flushes you with more excitement.

Thighs squeeze again as knees shiver on your hips. The way his body shrinks and grows with your movement, you need only a few words to give him the pleasure you want to see him engulfed in.

“How much do you want it?” You bait his fogged thoughts so effortlessly. Too many times like this before, and yet not enough. You need it to happen more, for this to happen more. “Lalna, tell me how much you want this.”

The feeling of his nose scrunch on your shoulder is too cutesy, so your nails slide down his back to keep him eccentric. “I need it!” He coughs the words, like he was saving his very last breath for salvation. “Please Rythian, give me your orgasm.” He purposefully tenses around you, like he’s trying to extract it out.

You would laugh, but it worked on you. It wasn’t even a challenge for him, he brought you over the edge, all while his smile compresses into you.You want to hold him still as you let it all go, but everything becomes blurring shapes as he takes every drop of energy.

It could have been your ending fiftful thrusts, or how your fingers held his skin, or even if his dubious senses were tickled just the right way as your jarring ejaculation shot up and coated him on the way back down, but he couldn’t hold any longer.

It was gooey and warm, hitting your stomach, chest and even just at your collar bone. Shivers traced up his body as his release ended, his floating mind slowly coming down again. The once panicked breath eased, ghosting down your arm before bursting on your cheek. His eyes were deep as they stared back at you.

Your fingers swirled around in the painted mess on your chest, picking drops of the semi liquid to stick into the miniscule bumps of your fingertips. You barely outline his mouth before slipping your fingers between his feeble lips. He licks each one clean, keeping you a minute longer to lap his tongue at the tip of your nails.

His heated saliva shocks your skin when its exposed back to the air but his readjusting legs are what grab you attention. He still holds you firmly, still snug in your lap. The cooling cum feels as if it’s cementing, seeping into every pore of your skin. You both need a shower.

When he leans in for a kiss, his sweet dusting finding his wholly satisfied face, you don’t expect him to stop. But he does. He angles his head, and smirks, like he can see the world in your eyes.

“Now who’s the dirty one?”


End file.
